


imagine me and you (I do)

by Poe



Series: home (let me go home) [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Established Relationship, Geralt is trans it's not relevant to the fic but he is because I said so, Happy Ending, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier you are very bad at being sneaky, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Probably won't make sense without reading that huh, Roach is a cat, Sequel to The Places We Call Home, autistic author, nonbinary author, tattooed geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poe/pseuds/Poe
Summary: "Jaskier has been more fidgety than usual, and that’s saying something. To Geralt, it seems he’s always on the move, places to be, people to see, a beautiful and magnificent whirlwind of colour and sound that blesses touches down and turns to calm around Geralt. But lately – "(Or: Jaskier's keeping a secret and Geralt assumes the absolute worst.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: home (let me go home) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822009
Comments: 41
Kudos: 258





	imagine me and you (I do)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jesuisgrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisgrace/gifts).



> Sequel to The Places We Call Home (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235156).

Jaskier has been more fidgety than usual, and that’s saying something. To Geralt, it seems he’s always on the move, places to be, people to see, a beautiful and magnificent whirlwind of colour and sound that blessedly touches down and turns to calm around Geralt. But lately –

“Can I use your phone?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier promptly drops it, before wincing and reaching down to check the screen. Geralt doesn’t get a look at it, but Jaskier locks it and mutters something about the battery being low, even though he’d been happily scrolling through – something and smiling only a few seconds before. They use each other’s phones, as a rule, they have nothing to hide – and Jaskier’s smile is the smile he gives to people he’s trying to be polite to, not the real smile he graces only a lucky few with. It’s brittle around the edges and it scares Geralt.

Geralt fiddles with the hair tie on his wrist, and Jaskier makes excuses to get up and make dinner, and he’s so bad at it that Geralt should really offer to help, but instead Geralt just sits, and tries to figure out what just happened. Geralt knows enough about phones to know exactly what it could be hiding, but the thought of Jaskier – no. That can’t be it, can it? His hand moves from the hair tie to the small tattoo on the back of his neck, he can find it by touch alone, sense memories of Jaskier’s fingers and mouth on that small notch of bone that feel almost anchored to his spinal cord.

Knowing it’s there, even though he can’t see it, is normally a relief. Instead it feels like – a question. He can hear Jaskier, but whether Jaskier is one hundred per cent here is another question. And that sinks deep to his stomach and churns it right up, until he’s not hungry at all.

When Jaskier comes back through with a lightly scorched pizza and some garlic bread, Geralt pretends everything is okay, even though his mind is racing, and if Jaskier looks hunted, Geralt can’t tell if he’s projecting or if it’s real. What happens now? Does he leave? Does Jaskier leave? Do they both leave? Is this still a home with one of them missing?

Jaskier talks and it feels almost normal, in an uncanny valley kind of a way. There’re pauses between sentences that shouldn’t be there, and the conversation runs in circles, Jaskier repeating himself seemingly without realising it. Jaskier, who has a million things to say, has run out of words.

Fuck.

Is this Geralt’s fault? Did he do something? Was there something he should have done but didn’t? He’s not – good at this, dammit. He tries. He doesn’t have words in the same way Jaskier does, but he tries so damn hard to be good. To be a good man. To be worthy of this sunshine yellow gift that Jaskier is, a human-shaped home, safe and breathing and like a weighted blanket over his shoulders.

After dinner, Jaskier volunteers to wash up, something he never does, something he has threatened to write songs about how much he hates doing – and Geralt watches him go, and after a couple of minutes, quietly follows him through to the kitchen, feeling like a spy in his own home, and he sees – Jaskier, smiling down at his phone again, typing furiously.

Oh.

Geralt backs out of the kitchen, and heads to the bathroom, locking the door before sinking down beside the toilet and closing his eyes, tilting his face into the cool of the tiles on the wall.

He understands. Does that make it better or worse? That he understands why Jaskier would – why he wouldn’t be enough for Jaskier.

He’s going to miss this house.

He can taste bile but his stomach doesn’t heave, so after a while, he flushes the toilet and brushes his teeth, early for bed, but what else is there to do? He stares at the pages of his book for a while before giving up, and if Jaskier comments on it, well. As he falls asleep, he feels Jaskier moving his hair from his neck and pressing a kiss to the dandelion etched onto his skin, and it feels like burning.

*

 **GERALT** : Jaskier was your friend first.

 **RENFRI** : Great non sequitur, but I don’t follow???

 **GERALT** : I just wanted you to know I don’t mind if he chooses you.

 **RENFRI** : Geralt wtf?????

He doesn’t reply.

*

Jaskier gets a call that leaves him looking pale and drawn, and Geralt has to fight all of his instincts not to go over there and scoop him up and tell him everything will be okay. Jaskier looks at him, before looking away, and it seems to say everything and nothing at all.

Geralt fiddles with the hair tie until it starts to fray, thin white rubber showing through the black of the outside. He should take it off. He doesn’t.

*

Jaskier comes home late from work.

Geralt serves dinner and they eat in silence, Jaskier’s phone buzzing throughout. Geralt’s words are trapped like his mouth has been sewn shut, and the television blares like an unwanted third party.

*

Geralt’s phone rings. Yennefer.

“Stop it,” she says, before he can even greet her. “Stop this right now.”

“I’m not – ”

“Yes, you are. You know how nervous he is? He’s been planning this for ages, and you’re fucking it up.”

“Goodbye, Yen.”

Geralt sets his phone to silent, and tries to ignore the way it lights up again and again and again, before turning it face down.

*

It’s a Tuesday, and Geralt has a day off work. Jaskier doesn’t, and he heads out, that mirror-twin smile still on his face. He moves to hug Geralt, and Geralt stands stiff as a board, and when Jaskier’s lips brush his cheek it feels like goodbye.

When the door closes, Geralt gathers Roach to him and lets himself cry for the first time in years.

*

He’s still in the hallway when the front door opens an hour later, and he hears Jaskier’s voice mingling with another man’s. Geralt shuffles so that he’s out of sight. Jaskier sounds vibrant, alive, like he hasn’t sounded for a while now. Not since that night with the phone. He’s thanking the other man, effusive, words running free. He’s happy. Geralt can’t make out what he’s saying, but it sounds like love in those words. The door shuts, and the man must have left, and Jaskier is humming to himself, something that is on the tip of Geralt’s brain but he can’t pick out right now. Jaskier swears gently to himself, before moving to the stairs, each step on those creaky wooden boards taking him a step further from Geralt. Geralt wipes his face. He feels so very tired.

*

When Jaskier comes back downstairs, Geralt is waiting for him, and Jaskier’s eyes go wide at the sight of him, and that’s fair, he probably looks a mess.

“Geralt – darling, are you okay?” And his voice still sounds like home, like Geralt’s renting him, just for a little bit longer.

Geralt shakes his head.

“Tell me,” Jaskier says, and tries to take Geralt’s hands in his, and Geralt lets him, because he might not get to have this again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Geralt says, and it comes out strangled. “I’m really going to miss you.”

And he doesn’t know if his knees buckle first or if Jaskier gathers him to his chest first, but he’s surrounded by Jaskier all of a sudden, breathing in his after shave, the cedar wood and black pepper and that smell that only Jaskier has, and Geralt’s brain whispers _home_ like a traitor.

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Jaskier says, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair, even as they get caught in knots Geralt hasn’t brushed out yet today, “why do you think that I am? Are you going somewhere? What’s going on?”

It’s three words, but it feels like a thousand.

“You’re leaving me,” Geralt manages, and his throat slams shut at the thought of it and suddenly he can’t breathe. Jaskier gets them both to the floor, and he’s rubbing Geralt’s back, and it still feels like comfort, and he takes it, and he takes it, and he takes it.

“Hey, hey, no. No I’m not. God,” Jaskier huffs out a laugh, “I’m never leaving you. Is that what you thought? Is that why you’ve been so – god I’m an idiot. You’ve been winding yourself up and I hadn’t even noticed, haven’t you? Too stuck inside my own head. Here. Can I show you something?”

He stands, and pulls Geralt upright, and gestures to the stairs.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” Jaskier says, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be happy. I – well, you’ll see.”

He pushes the door open to their bedroom, and it’s normal, all normal, except for –

There’s a painting above the bed, that wasn’t there before. And Geralt’s first thought is _yellow_. He blinks, and it resolves itself, it’s a field. Full of yellow flowers. They’re splotchy and painted so thick the paint raises up from the canvas. Geralt can almost imagine them swaying in the wind. It’s beautiful. It’s –

“You told me about it. I remembered. I wanted to – this is your home, Geralt. And I thought – you don’t like wearing rings, so I’d ask you like this instead. You’re my most precious thing, Geralt. If I could only choose one thing to keep with me in this life, it’d be you. And so, gods, I’ve fucked this up well and proper, but here we are. I’m asking you to marry me.”

“How long?” Geralt asks, instead of answering. He can’t look away from the painting, even though he knows Jaskier is staring at him, waiting for a proper response.

“How long have I known, or how long did it take to put this together? Because I’ve always known, deep down. When you see someone and you look at them, and you love them immediately because you don’t know how not to. But okay. When you got the tattoo. When you got the tattoo and you told me what it meant to you. That’s when I knew I was all in. That’s when I knew this was where I was supposed to be. It just took me a little longer to be brave enough to tell you.”

Eight months, give or take, Geralt does the maths. Eight months Jaskier has kept this beautiful secret.

“The painting? Hell of a thing. Thankfully Yennefer knew someone, because I didn’t know where to start. I wanted to get it just right. I had so many references, a whole Pinterest board full of them. I can show you – ” Jaskier pulls his phone out and thumbs it awake, moving to an app Geralt doesn’t recognise. Dozens, hundreds, of pictures of fields and flowers appear. “I wanted it to be perfect. I didn’t have much to go on, but I tried. For you.”

Geralt looks back at the painting. There’s –

Two people, little more than a few brush strokes each, sit in the middle of the flowers, leaning into one another, white hair contrasting with brown and dark clothes contrasting with light.

“We’re in the field,” Geralt says, in awe.

“We are. I didn’t want to presume. I know it’s your safe space. But. I want to share it with you, if you’ll let me. I want to share everything with you. I love you so fucking much. You’re the beginning and the end, for me, you know? You’re everything.”

And then Geralt’s kissing him, and maybe Jaskier’s crying, and maybe Geralt’s crying, and maybe it’s a bit of a mess as both of them try not to openly sob, pulling back to stare at each other.

“I cocked this up, didn’t I?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shakes his head.

“No. Just took me by surprise.”

“A good surprise?” Jaskier asks, but that’s not the question he’s really asking.

“A really good surprise.”

Their foreheads nudge together, and they stand, for a moment, lost in each other. _Home_ , Geralt’s heartbeat thrums, _home, home, home_.

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer my question. Which is quite rude actually. Leaving a boy waiting like that,” Jaskier says into the space inbetween them.

“Yes,” Geralt replies, like it’s easy. And in that moment, it is. Always yes.

“Thank the gods,” Jaskier smiles, “that painting was really expensive.”

And if Geralt tips them sideways onto the bed and wrestles Jaskier until the ticklish skin below his ribs is exposed, and Jaskier is wriggling away and giggling, and then they’re kissing again, sloppy and stupid and so in love they can barely breathe with it, then that’s okay.

“Don’t try to be sneaky again,” Geralt says, pulling back.

“Oh, I’ve learnt my lesson,” Jaskier replies, “but maybe you should kiss me again, just so we’re clear.”

So Geralt does. And Jaskier’s fingers find the tattoo on the back of Geralt’s neck and pull him ever closer.

And it feels like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Grace for the prompt for this, I was just going to stare at all my unanswered prompts and instead I wrote two thousand words, oops.
> 
> We are in the business of fluff at this establishment, so never fear. 
> 
> No comment is too silly, too short, or anything like that. It's just nice to know you're here.
> 
> You can find me at witcherling.tumblr.com or twitter.com/imwiththebard
> 
> Thank you for reading, and feel free to check out my other Witcher fics. <3


End file.
